Problem? Solved
by BluAlbino
Summary: In which a very drunk Dean proposes to a very confused Castiel while Sam sleeps it off in the back seat. Dean/Castiel twoshot
1. Problem? Solved

Going drinking with his little brother was pretty awesome. Dean felt like they were finally starting to get along again for the first time in a long time. Even though these outings usually ended with one of them, Dean more than Sam, getting the shit kicked out of them, it was worth it.

About an hour later, the conversation swiveled from odd childhood memories ("remember how you fell out of that tree after that Black Dog chased you up there?" "Yeah, and I also remember the time you got poison ivy after a stakeout in the woods.") to angels ("dude, they're such dicks." "I know, man.").

"He thinks you're, like, holy, or somethin'," Sam said, leaning heavily on the bar.

"Who?" Dean asked, tipping back his beer for another gulp.

"Cas. He stares at you all the time, like, you're glowing or have three arms or somethin'," Sam replied, gesturing in Dean's face with one hand, leaning up so close that Dean could smell his nacho-beernut-alcohol-breath.

"I think you've had enough," Dean said, moving to take his brother's half-full bottle. Sam grabbed his arm in a firm but wobbly grip.

"I think he wants to do you, man," Sam said, tilting dangerously towards Dean.

"Who says 'he wants to do you'? That was lame, Sammy," Dean said, knowing better than to listen to Sam's drunken theories. According to him banshees had the hots for golfers and the Ghostfacers' webcast was somewhat funny after you got past the migraine inducing amateurism.

" Shu'p. I bet the only reason he hasn't already tied you to a bed is because premarital sex is a sin," Sam said, leaning back into his chair.

Dean had to shake off that mental image before he could respond.

"And the whole _gay sex _thing," Dean said, trying to shake that idea right out of Sam's head.

"N'uh," Sam replied, "it says gay sex is bad right next to where it says women can't wear pants, and look'it Anna."

"You are such a drama queen drunk," Dean said. Sam tried to cuff him in the back of the head, but overbalanced and landed on the floor. Dean laughed so hard he spit beer.

___

After admitting that they probably should have stopped drinking around the time Sam started falling off of shit, Dean left the bar supporting a semi-comatose six-foot-four deadweight.

"Jesus, Sammy," Dean muttered, holding Sam's arm around his shoulder, "pretty fuckin' heavy for a lightweight." Sam mumbled something in response that might have been "shu'p, m'tired." Dean shook his head disapprovingly as he sidled up to the car, walking oddly to keep Sam's bulk away from the back door. Maneuvering like he had a large, and rather uncooperative, growth protruding from his right hip, he opened the back door and carefully plopped Sam down in the back seat, tucking him in slowly to prevent marring the upholstery.

Sam out of the way, Dean walked around to the driver's side door, his knees wobbling with the sudden change in body mass. He may have been the slightest bit drunk…

And, unless he was a lot drunker than he thought, Castiel had not been sitting in the driver's seat when he'd put Sam in the back. Freaking angel powers.

"Cas," Dean said, the 's' coming out as a 'z' , making him sound sloshed. More sloshed.

"Dean," Castiel replied, and Dean felt a giggle rising up in his throat at the seriousness in the angel's voice. He suppressed it, but probably didn't quite hide his smirk.

"So…" Dean said, "why're you here?"

"If you drive in this condition, you will kill yourself," Castiel said, throwing Dean for a loop. Normally when the angel showed up it was all 'doom and gloom, the world's going to end' not 'friends don't let friends drive drunk.' Dean snorted. Castiel looked at him disapprovingly--or, as disapprovingly as he could without actually moving his facial muscles. It was all in the eyes.

Still, Dean complied, even though it was his car, and walked around to the passenger's side door, settling into Sammy's usual seat.

"D'you drive?" Dean asked. He got his answer when the engine turned itself on, the keys still being in Dean's back pocket, and Castiel easily put it in drive. "They got driver's ed up in heaven?"

"I have been watching you," Castiel said, eyes fixed firmly on the road as he pulled out of the parking lot. Dean, ever the chatty drunk, decided that the car was too quiet and said the first thing that popped into his head.

"Sam says you want to fuck me." Okay, that probably wasn't a good one. Castiel turned his head slowly around, eyes slightly widened and forehead creased. He probably would've had a similar look if Dean had suddenly grown a second head.

"That would be a sin," Castiel said. Not '_of course not_', just that it would be a sin.

"We could get married," Dean said helpfully. Cas' incredulous look went from _two headed Dean _to _three headed __**scaly**__ Dean. _"No, really, we could go to Vegas," Dean said, leaning into Castiel, who was driving quite well for someone not looking at the road. "They marry people all the time. Sam could be my best man, Uriel could be your-- you're the girl, by the way-- maid of honor, only not in a dress, 'cause that'd be scary-"

"Dean," Castiel said sharply. The '_shut the fuck up' _was more implied than stated. He turned his head back to the road, and Dean reluctantly followed suit.

"I have a ring…" Dean said, fumbling it off of his right hand, not looking at Cas. He held it out to the angel between the tips of his left forefinger and thumb. His hand was shaking from the alcohol, and absolutely nothing else.

He felt Castiel's fingers brush his as the angel took the ring. Neither of them looked at each other as Cas slipped it onto his finger.

"You may now kiss the bride!" Sam yelled from the back seat, startling them both. A horn honked as the car swerved.

"How long have you been awake?" Dean said, spinning around to face Sam.

"Long enough to know that Uriel's gonna be the maid of honor," Sam said, grinning drunkenly. Dean could only hope that he wouldn't remember this in the morning.


	2. I Do Do You?

Waking up with a hangover that could have easily felled a giant--if he could find a giant and magically transfer his hangover to it-- was not fun. Less fun was the angel sitting on the end of his bed, staring at him with a decidedly un-angelic grin.

"The fuck're you doin' here?" Dean asked, propping himself up slowly on his elbows. "Where's Cas?"

"According to you blood bags," Uriel said, "it's bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding."

"Wha-" was all Dean got out before Uriel grabbed him by the arm and suddenly they were somewhere else. A very hot somewhere that smelled like flowers and booze. "Did you just kidnap me?"

"I am holding you to your commitment, Winchester," Uriel said, disappearing. Dean took in his surroundings, dirty off white walls and a large wooden door with a plaque that read 'The King's Chapel.' Why would they plop him down in the middle of a freaking chapel?

Uriel reappeared a few feet to his right, dragging Sam by the ankle.

"Sam?"

"Dean? What the hell is going on?" Sam asked, as Uriel disappeared yet again.

"Beats me," Dean said, standing. Sam followed suit. They walked up to the chapel door and Dean pushed it open a fraction.

"Don't do that," Uriel said, reappearing with a very pissed-off looking Bobby.

"Bobby?" Sam and Dean asked at the same time.

"What the hell am I doing here?" Bobby asked, glaring at the brothers.

"Someone needs to give him away," Uriel said, grinning wickedly.

"What?" All three humans yelled at the same time. Uriel grinned wider.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, boy," the angel said, looking at Dean. He put a hand on Sam's shoulder and steered him towards the chapel.

"Where are you taking me?" Sam asked, Uriel didn't answer. Judging from the skid marks Sam's feet left on the floor as he tried to break Uriel's grasp, the angel was putting all his strength into getting Sam into the chapel.

"Just go with'im, boy," Bobby said gruffly. Sam huffed and stopped actively resisting, but didn't help Uriel drag him along. They stepped into the chapel, Uriel positioning his body so Dean and Bobby couldn't see around him.

"Do you have any idea what's going on?" Dean asked.

"Nope, but I have a bad feelin'," Bobby replied, looking at Dean uneasily.

A youngish blonde woman with glasses came out of the chapel, walking briskly, like she needed to be somewhere _right now_. She walked up to Dean and Bobby, looked them over once, Dean in his sweats and Bobby in his plaid, made a 'huff' noise and said "well, it could be worse."

"What could be worse?" Dean asked, hoping-- but not expecting-- for someone to tell him what the fuck was going on.

"You two hicks," she said, not insultingly, more like she was stating a fact. Before Dean could take offence, she grabbed Dean's right arm and Bobby's left, looping them together. Then she walked around them and, hand on each of their backs, _pushed _them into the chapel. The doors parted before them with the low whoosh of automatic hinges, treating Dean to a very interesting sight.

A red carpeted isle with pews on either side, the right side filled with people sitting very stiffly, and the left empty. Sam stood just to the left of the altar, in his sleep clothes, with bed hair sticking up in the back. Castiel and Uriel stood to the right of Sam, on the other side of the altar, Castiel looking oddly skinny without his trenchcoat.

And Elvis. Skinny Elvis, with leather pants and a very unnatural pompadour, elbows propped on the altar, apparently chatting with Uriel.

All the people, and the two angels, and Sam, and Elvis, turned to look as Dean and Bobby arrived, arms linked.

"Bobby..." Dean whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

"I think we best start walkin'," Bobby whispered back. Dean nodded jerkily and they started a slow march up the isle, no music to accompany them, but everyone staring in a way that made Dean's skin crawl.

Uriel was grinning. Sam was trying to look comforting, but mostly looked confused. Cas was looking down. Elvis smirked.

Dean reached the altar and Bobby let go of his arm. The blonde woman manhandled him into an empty pew on the left.

"Dean Winchester," Elvis said in a Texan drawl.

"Elvis," Dean replied, because it honestly could not have been weirder at that point.

"Actually," Elvis said, smirk widening, "I prefer Hadraniel. Angel o' love, and all." Dean blinked. This had to be some random ass dream, right? "Anyway, enough with the introductions. We got ourselves a weddin' to perform."

"A what?" Dean and Sam asked at the same time.

"Unless I got some bad information, there was a proposal made," Elvis--err, Hadraniel-- said lightly. Dean was about to protest, but a fuzzy half-drunk memory stopped him. He had asked Castiel to marry him. He had asked _Cas_ to _marry_ him.

No more drinking. _Ever_.

Castiel was oddly silent, looking at and area around Dean's bare feet.

"Dean Winchester," Hadraniel belted, "do you take Castiel to be your angel? Do you promise to love, honor and protect Castiel, forsaking all others?"

"Uh..." Dean said.

"Do you take him in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, as long as you both shall live?"

"Wait a second here..." Dean said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I told you he did not want this," Castiel said, staring at Hadraniel. "May I leave now?"

"C'mon, little brother," Hadraniel pleaded. "We can't have a weddin' without the groom."

"Wait! Since when am _I_ the chick?"

"Since Castiel didn't have a father figure to give him away, boy."

"Why are you even here Uriel? Don't you have some puppies to smite?"

"Fellas, not in the chapel!"

A glass vase shattered suddenly.

"Enough," Castiel said, glaring at them. He turned and marched back up the isle. Dean, after a second of what the fuck just happened, followed. He _had_ gotten the angel in this mess after all...

"Cas," Dean said, walking out of the chapel on Castiel's heels, the door clicking closed behind them. The angel kept walking. "Cas!" Castiel stopped suddenly and turned to face Dean. He did not look happy. Dean gulped.

"Dean," Castiel said, looking down. "I am sorry."

"You're sorry?"

"I did not wish to involve my... siblings in this," he fingered Dean's ring, still on his ring finger. He started to pull it off.

"Dude, I _gave_ you that," Dean said indignantly. "The least you can do is keep it." Castiel let go of the ring, letting it settle back on his hand.

"If I keep it, then we are engaged," Cas said solemnly.

"Keep it."

Castiel ducked his head, but before he did, Dean could swear he saw a tiny smile, too small for normal people to notice.

So, yeah, maybe he was a giant sap, and a soon to be married giant sap, but that was totally worth it.

"Boys," Hadraniel yelled, cracking the door, "don't consummate the weddin' in the hall, that's what the rooms are for!" There was a roar of uncomfortable laughter that Dean could only assume was Bobby.

Dean and Castiel walked back into the chapel.

**~fin**


End file.
